The Trouble with Stolen Goods
by elbcw
Summary: A stolen gemstone causes problems for the Musketeers.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: Everyone gets a bit of a whump and there's not much plot. I will post the chapters daily, but the times may vary along with my shift pattern. I hope you enjoy it.

The Trouble with Stolen Goods

Chapter One

'How much is it worth?' asked d'Artagnan as they slowed the horses down to a trot and an eventual stop by the stream.

They dismounted and allowed the horses to drink their fill as they took the opportunity to dust themselves down. Aramis crouched down by the stream and scooped water up to drink and wash his face and neck. Athos took a few swigs from his wineskin and Porthos wandered off a little way, stretching his arms out as he went.

'I heard,' said Aramis as he stood up, 'that it's worth more than any other jewel in France.'

'I heard,' said Porthos as he returned to the group, 'that the King had planned on selling it...it's no wonder he's so keen to get it back.'

'I bet Richelieu isn't in the King's favour about this. The Red Guard were meant to be keeping it safe,' said d'Artagnan as he held out a carrot for his horse.

'Two men died,' remarked Athos, 'whoever has stolen the gem was determined that they were to have it. This is not a mission to be taken lightly.'

Athos watched as each man nodded. Knowing that two Red Guardsmen had been killed when the gemstone had been stolen was sobering. The Guardsmen would not have been easy to kill. Their injuries were enough to show that they did not die easily. Despite the animosity between the two groups of soldiers the Musketeers had been angered by the deaths.

The King had ordered several groups of Musketeers to be dispatched to hunt for the thieves. Treville had little information to go on, but one thought was that the thieves were Spanish and that the theft was being used to sully any brittle peace the two nations had.

The inseparables had been one group sent to search the main roads to the south of Paris in the hope of finding the thieves. It was a long shot, but with luck one of the groups of Musketeers would come across the thieves and retrieve the stolen gemstone.

Once the horses had drunk their fill they remounted and returned to the main road, pushing into a canter. Each man remained vigilant, looking for anything suspicious.

MMMM

Porthos slowed his horse as the old man waved at him. The small bent man beckoned them over. Porthos dismounted and handed his reins to Aramis.

'Are you looking for someone?' asked the man, who still had to look up at Porthos even after he was stood on the ground.

Porthos nodded but did not reply.

'There's a group of Spaniards camping in the woods a couple of miles away. They came through here. They spoke French but I could tell it wasn't their first language,' said the man pointing towards the woods.

'How do you know where they are camping?' asked Athos.

The small man looked across to him, 'I had one of my labourers follow them. We all know the woods well, there are some useful herbs growing in there, and I didn't want those men trampling all over them.'

'Why do you think we're looking for them?' asked Porthos.

'There're Spanish…'

Porthos smiled, 'thank you, monsieur,' he said as he reached for his money bag.

'Oh, I don't want paying,' said the old man, 'just sort them out. Some of the young men are annoyed about them being there...I'm worried they may get themselves hurt trying to get the Spaniards out.'

Porthos nodded, 'we understand,' he said.

He remounted and as they walked the horses into the woods he saw the old man walking away, towards a small house a few hundred yards away.

'It might not even be them,' said d'Artagnan.

'But it might. We will observe them for a while before we do anything else,' replied Athos.

MMMM

They approached the camp in silence and found a spot where they were close enough to listen to any conversation but would be unobserved by the men they were watching.

The camp was set up in a clearing well away from the road if the men had not been observed entering the woods no one would have known they were there. The change of seasons into spring had meant a fresh growth of leaves and plants also helped to obscure the camp.

A fire was set in the centre of the clearing, it was burning well with the remains of a meal littered around it. Four men were either sat or lying around the fire drinking.

Five horses were tethered to trees a few yards from the men. A small shallow stream trickled passed on the far side of the camp.

The men were all dressed for travel, they wore heavy-duty cloaks, all dark in colour. They were clearly hardened to a life on the move. None of the men seemed the least bit bothered to be camping on what was going to be a cool night. The two men who were lying stretched out on their bedrolls were already either asleep or dozing. The other two men were talking animatedly and looking at something that one of them was holding.

The two men were talking quietly, probably so that they did not disturb the two men who were already asleep. They were talking in Spanish. D'Artagnan glanced across to Aramis, the marksman was listening intently, following the conversation. His own Spanish was limited so he did not try to work out what was being said, instead he continued to observe.

As the four Musketeers watched the man turned the item in his hand, the fire reflected off its surface. He lifted the item up slightly and turned it so that they could see it better. The gemstone looked dark, apart from the glints of reflected light. It was larger than they had expected. The size of an apricot.

They had found the thieves.

D'Artagnan studied the men carefully, they were all armed. The two sleeping men had removed their weapons but had left them within easy reach. The two men with the gemstone each wore a sword and gun. One of them also carried a dagger, tucked into his belt. There was always the possibility of other weapons being secreted about the camp or even tucked into belts that he could not see.

Athos tapped him on the shoulder and indicated that they should retreat. D'Artagnan nodded and followed his brothers away from the camp. Once out of earshot, but still talking quietly they turned to one another. D'Artagnan noted that Porthos kept his eyes on the direction they had come from throughout their conversation.

'They only intend to camp tonight,' said Aramis, 'they're breaking camp early in the morning and will push on for many miles tomorrow, that's why they have settled early today.'

Aramis paused looking at each of his brothers.

'If we are going to get that gem back, we need to do it tonight.'

Athos nodded, 'I agree. I would rather take them by surprise, this evening, than meet them during the day tomorrow.'

Porthos was still looking towards the camp as he spoke, 'we'll give them a bit longer, hopefully, they will either all sleep or only leave one on guard...are we taking them captive?'

D'Artagnan watched as Athos mulled the question over. The King had not given them specific instructions regarding the men who had stolen the gem. They had only been told to retrieve the stolen item, not what was to be done with the thieves.

'We should try to take them alive, but not at a cost to ourselves,' Athos said.

D'Artagnan had expected the answer that Athos gave. None of them enjoyed killing others, it was part of their lives as soldiers, but it was never a pleasant one.

Athos continued, 'if we can liberate the gem without them knowing it we may be able to take it and leave without any need to fight.'

'Do you actually think we will be that lucky?' asked Aramis with a wry smile.

Athos shook his head, 'no, but one can hope.'

MMMM

They fanned out around the camp, Athos and d'Artagnan went to the right whilst Porthos and Aramis went to the left. They worked their way around silently. After deciding that they would try to neutralise the men rather than kill them the element of surprise was even more important.

All four men appeared to be asleep. The two men that had been admiring the gemstone were lying further from the fire. Aramis and Porthos crept towards them. Aramis saw that Athos and d'Artagnan had broken cover on the other side of the camp and were edging toward the other two men.

Porthos was aiming for the man who had been holding the stone, as he reached the man's side he crouched down. Aramis did the same by the other man, he looked up and watched as Athos and d'Artagnan closed the last few yards to their men.

But the luck that they had hoped for was not on their side. The campfire crackled loudly for a second as a couple of the burning sticks shifted. The man d'Artagnan was about to reach sat up, as he reached out to take a stout stick, presumably to poke at the fire he saw Porthos and Aramis across the fire by the two sleeping thieves.

D'Artagnan was quick to close the gap, but not quick enough. The man yelled out a warning as he swung his stick at the young Musketeer. A rush of movement ensued. Aramis lost track of Athos and d'Artagnan as he was forced backwards by the man he had been about to neutralise.

As the man had surged forward Aramis lost his footing and ended up on his back with the other man on top of him. Aramis blocked a punch and kicked out at the same time, forcing the man off him. They both scrambled to their feet, Aramis went to pull his gun but found that the fall had dislodged it from its place on his belt, he could not pull it loose quick enough. He had to jump back to evade a thrust of his opponent's sword. Pulling his own sword he was quickly embroiled in an intense, but short fight. The Spaniard had skill but he was slow in his movements, Aramis suspected the man was sleep deprived.

The man made a fatal mistake giving Aramis the chance to push his sword into the man's chest, penetrating his lung. The man gasped as blood bubbled on his lips. Aramis said a silent prayer as he pushed the man off his sword and to the ground. The dying man twitched convulsively as his body fought to take a proper breath before settling back down.

A cry from Porthos and a thud told Aramis that two of the men had been dealt with. He glanced at Porthos who was panting as he wiped blood from his sword. His brother was unharmed, unlike the thief in front of him who had blood pooling beneath his head as it continued to pump from the wound on his neck, his open eyes no longer seeing the sky above him.

Aramis looked across to his brothers who were both still fighting. D'Artagnan was busy pushing his man away a few steps. As the man steadied himself d'Artagnan pulled his gun, levelled it and calmly shot him in the head. Aramis could tell from the fleeting look of regret that d'Artagnan felt he had no choice but to kill the man.

D'Artagnan turned towards Athos and the fourth man, ready to offer help if it was necessary. Although they were each more than capable of taking on more than one untrained man, none of them were above accepting assistance.

The man fighting Athos was a thick set burley middle-aged swordsman, whose use of the weapon was unruly. Athos was not having any issues keeping the man back, it became apparent to Aramis that Athos was wearing the man down. Perhaps he would be the only one of them to successfully take his opponent alive.

In an unusual move that surprised Aramis and unfortunately the swordsman in front of him, the thief threw his sword towards Athos who had to quickly change his tactic to brush the weapon aside. In that same second the man rushed Athos and pushed him to the floor. They were dangerously close to the fire.

As the two men fought on the ground for a few seconds d'Artagnan moved forward but could not get close enough to attempt to pull the thief off Athos. Aramis pulled his gun from his weapons belt but could not fire for fear of hitting their brother.

The two fighting men managed to scramble to their feet, separating for a second. Aramis aimed and fired, hitting the man in the back of the head.

At the same moment, the watching Musketeers realised that the fighting men were not just close to the campfire when they had been on the ground they must have been in it as well. Athos had somehow managed to get burning twigs caught up in his belt. But the swordsman had not noticed, he had clearly been too caught up in the fist fight with the other man. Still regaining his composure Athos was unaware that the twigs were smoking dangerously close to his supply of gunpowder.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Athos had been fighting the thick-set man for a couple of minutes when he executed an unexpected move. The man had simply thrown his sword at Athos. An unusual tactic, yet it appeared to have worked, as now Athos was on the floor fighting the heavy man. He was also unfortunate to be underneath the man.

Athos was fairly sure that the rest of his brothers had dealt with their opponents. He knew that if he really struggled help would arrive. With that knowledge, Athos managed to find the strength to push back at the man. He had taken a couple of blows to the chest and a hard swipe to his face. But he had given as good as he got. The man above him took a few seconds to recover from the punch to the jaw giving Athos the chance to push him off and scramble up.

The man hauled himself up and turned ready to continue the fight. Athos was about to step in with another punch when a shot rang out and his opponent stared vacantly for a second before falling to his knees. Athos expected to see the man either slump to the side or fall forward.

He was, however, not given the chance as he was tackled from the side. Athos had to admit he was surprised that there was still a thief who was able to fight. He had been sure his brothers had all taken out their men. Athos wondered if one of his friends had been injured or worse. In the second it took him to process the horrible thought he found himself pushed bodily to the ground.

He was not just on the ground he was in the shallow stream that ran along one side of the Spanish camp. The water was cold, he gasped in shock as it soaked through his clothes. Instinctively he grabbed at the man who had pushed him into the water. This man was responsible for harm coming to one of his brothers. Athos saw no reason to try to keep the man alive.

Athos managed to twist over so that he was on top of his new attacker. The man flailed his limbs, he appeared to be shocked at the move, his arms flung out to the side with a splash before pushing back at him.

With shock, Athos stopped his assault. The man who had pushed him into the stream was d'Artagnan, who was now coughing and spluttering as he tried to prise Athos' hands off his doublet.

'You were on fire,' called a voice to his left.

Athos looked across to see Aramis, his spent gun still smoking, hurrying across to them.

Athos replayed the last few seconds in his mind as he stared at the still coughing d'Artagnan. He realised when he fell to the floor near the fire they must have rolled into the side of it. Caught up in the fight he had not noticed. D'Artagnan had just saved him from being burnt, or worse.

'Sorry,' Athos said as he helped d'Artagnan up, 'I didn't realise.'

D'Artagnan coughed a few more times before responding, 'it's alright...you weren't...to know.'

'Are either of you hurt?' asked Aramis as he reached out to help d'Artagnan.

Athos looked down at himself, reaching for the burnt twigs stuck in his belt.

'No,' he replied.

'D'Artagnan?'

Athos watched as Aramis gently took d'Artagnan's right arm which the young Musketeer had been holding across his chest. D'Artagnan could not hide the wince of pain.

'I think I knocked it on a rock…'

'Sorry,' said Athos again.

Aramis was busy undoing the buttons on d'Artagnan's doublet. Athos helped his brother to shrug out of the sleeve. D'Artagnan pushed his shirt sleeve up. Dark bruises were already forming on the younger man's forearm.

Athos watched with worry as Aramis gently felt along the arm and encouraged d'Artagnan to move his hand and wrist.

'It's not broken, just badly bruised. I've got something that will help with the bruising, but there's not much else we can do. I think you will be struggling with a sword for a few days. I can strap it up, which might help.'

'It's not your fault, Athos,' said d'Artagnan.

Athos nodded but he could not help feeling a little guilty. He should have realised it was not one of the thieves attacking him sooner.

D'Artagnan shivered, Athos realised he was cold as well. Aramis noticed at the same time.

'You two need to get dry, and as quickly as possible...'

Athos looked across at the bodies of the men they had killed before looking at d'Artagnan who pulled an unappreciative face.

'I know,' said Athos, 'but their clothes are dry. And we do not have a change of clothes with us.'

Aramis chuckled, 'Porthos and I will get the horses...Get changed. With luck, your own clothes will dry in front of the fire before we leave.'

Athos looked at the offending fire and shook his head, 'at least we can put it to its proper use again.'

Porthos was crouched beside one of the dead men, going through the man's clothes. A look of success crossed his face as he pulled the gemstone out.

'It's been worth it to get this back,' he said as he stood up holding the large jewel out for them to see.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, they watched as he carefully wrapped the gem up and deposited it into his pocket.

Athos looked at them each, 'we have done what we set out to do. Let's get ourselves sorted out and return to Paris.'

MMMM

Aramis watched Porthos with amusement, his friend had patted his pocket at least three times as they walked towards the spot they had left their horses.

'Do you have a hole in the pocket? Are you worried you will lose the gem?'

Porthos glanced across and grinned, 'if I did lose it I doubt it would just be me that got in trouble.'

'Good point,' conceded Aramis, 'continue to check on it every few seconds.'

They reached the horses which were waiting patiently a few hundred yards from the Spanish camp. Aramis spend a few seconds checking in his saddle bag to ensure he had the herbs he needed to help d'Artagnan. He had spotted several on their walk across but as he had sufficient he did not feel the need to deprive the locals of their supply.

Porthos had been quietly talking to his horse as he untied her.

They led the horses back toward the camp.

As they neared the camp Aramis could see Athos helping d'Artagnan to redress, the younger man was clearly in a lot of pain from his injury which although not serious would cause him issues for a few days.

A sharp intake of breath from Porthos drew Aramis' attention. His friend had stopped walking and reached up to touch his neck, a look of confusion on his face.

'What…?' asked Aramis unable to work out what had happened.

'I think I've just been stung.'

'Stung? It's a bit early for wasps and bees,' remarked Aramis as he took a step closer to his friend.

Porthos was blinking as if he was trying to clear his vision.

'Porthos?' asked Aramis with concern.

He reached up to pull his friend's hand away from his neck only to find his wrist grabbed by Porthos. Porthos had hold of him firmly, Aramis stared at him.

Porthos' eyes seemed unfocused, but Aramis did not have time to reflect on a reason why. Porthos pulled his right arm back and punched Aramis hard in the face. Reeling, Aramis staggered back, unable to comprehend what had caused his best friend to behave in such a way.

But Porthos was not finished. He stepped forward and grabbed Aramis, hooking his foot behind Aramis' leg, at the same time forcing him to the ground. Aramis tried to push Porthos away but his friend seemed to have gained an unusual strength. Aramis felt powerless as Porthos punched him again before, standing. Not giving him a chance to regain his composure, Porthos kicked Aramis in the chest twice before a shout made the angry man stop and look away.

Aramis stared up at his friend, unable to comprehend what had come over him. They had argued in the past, even come to blows before. But he could not think of a reason for Porthos to have suddenly acted so aggressively.

He watched in horror as Porthos pulled his gun from his belt and raised it. For a moment Aramis wondered if his friend was going to shoot him but he continued to raise the weapon aiming it towards the camp.

Porthos fired the gun.

MMMM

Athos felt guilty for the injury he had caused to his brother. D'Artagnan was trying to play it down and was insisting it was an accident, but Athos knew he should have realised sooner that the man he was fighting off was not the enemy.

'Really, Athos, it's fine,' said d'Artagnan with more than a hint of exasperation.

Athos nodded, 'I know it was accidental, but still…'

D'artagnan tilted his head slightly, Athos realised he was, perhaps, being a little over the top with the apologies. He took a step forward and pushed d'Artagnan right hand gently away from the buttons on the liberated jacket. D'Artagnan had been trying to hide the pain the action of dressing was having on him.

D'Artagnan sighed dramatically as Athos buttoned up the doublet for him. Athos managed a smile.

When d'Artagnan shifted slightly and stared over Athos' shoulder, a shocked expression forming on his face, the swordsman turned to see what had drawn the younger man's attention.

Porthos was tripping a stunned-looking Aramis to the ground. The marksman landed heavily and tried in vain to push Porthos off him. But Porthos punched Aramis in the head before standing and kicking his friend twice. Aramis was either in too much pain or too stunned to react.

D'Artagnan had started hurriedly walking across to the two men, Athos followed calling out as he did so.

Porthos looked up at them, pulling his gun from his belt at the same time. For a moment Athos wondered if Porthos was going to shoot Aramis where he lay on the ground, his arms raised defensively above him.

But Porthos levelled the gun at d'Artagnan who stopped moving forward.

As Porthos fired the gun d'Artagnan twisted to the side instinctively. The ball hit the ground a couple of feet in front of d'Artagnan, kicking up a small clod of earth.

Porthos turned back to Aramis, staring at him for second before turning to the horses. He quickly mounted up and rode away, disappearing into the thick undergrowth of the wood.

The three remaining Musketeers were silent for a moment.

'What happened?' asked Athos as he snapped out of his shock.

He rushed forward with d'Artagnan towards their prone brother. The horses had become a little restless, d'Artagnan grabbed the reins of two of them and led them a few yards away from Aramis who was trying to sit up.

Athos knelt by the marksman and eased him up, keeping his hand on Aramis' shoulder to steady him.

'I don't know,' panted Aramis, who was staring in the direction his friend had disappeared in.

'What made him hit you?' asked d'Artagnan as he crouched down on Aramis' other side.

'We were walking back and...he just attacked me...I have no idea why,' reiterated Aramis.

Athos looked in the direction that Porthos had disappeared, 'you must have said or done something to cause him to do that.'

Aramis shook his head, 'I really didn't...we were…' Aramis paused for a moment thinking, 'we were... talking about the gemstone and then he said he thought he had been stung…'

'Stung?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Yes, I told him it was too early in the year for bees and wasps...I went to have a look and he grabbed my wrist, then he punched me.'

'Are you badly hurt? An honest answer please,' said Athos.

Aramis thought for a moment before replying, 'I don't think he did any damage, to be honest, I don't think he punched or kicked me as hard as he could have done...it was like he was holding back.'

'He could easily have shot me just now as well,' remarked d'Artagnan.

Athos nodded, he looked at both Aramis and d'Artagnan. Both men now carried injuries, but they needed to find Porthos.

'Can you both ride?'

Both men nodded, Athos suspected they were just as worried about Porthos. Even if it was going to cause them discomfort, Athos doubted he would be able to prevent either man from getting onto a horse and looking for their brother.

'Let's get after him then.'

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The sight of one of them beating the other was not a pleasant one. Even more so when Aramis could not come up with a reason for Porthos' behaviour. D'Artagnan had been part of the group long enough to know that although they may disagree occasionally, they would never intentionally hurt one another.

Porthos and Aramis had been friends for several years, they often looked out for each other without realising what they were doing. D'Artagnan had seen one or the other of them doing small things, gently pushing one of them out of the way of something as they walked along or setting a cup of wine in front of the other unasked. He was sure they did not know they were doing it. Something must have happened to Porthos. It was the only explanation. But what? What would make him go from a casual conversation to beating his best friend to the ground and firing his weapon in a few seconds?

As they urged the horses forward d'Artagnan glanced at Aramis who was deep in thought as he scanned the area around them. Aramis was probably thinking the same as d'Artagnan. The bruises on his face were already darkening and both he and Athos had noticed the hiss of pain as they had helped the marksman to mount up. Aramis was in pain and trying to hide it due to his worry about Porthos.

D'Artagnan had needed help mounting up as well, his bruised arm making it difficult for him to pull himself up. The injury was minor but very annoying.

Athos led the way through the wood away from the Spanish camp. They hoped to find Porthos quickly, although they had no idea what they would do if he was still acting aggressively. If they could restrain him, they could at least try to figure out what had happened to him.

'There,' said Aramis pointing ahead of them.

Porthos' horse was standing a few yards ahead, its head bowed to the ground. As they moved forward a little they saw that the horse was nuzzling his master. Porthos was lying face down, sprawled on the ground, apparently unconscious.

D'Artagnan managed to dismount on his own, quickly reaching his uninjured arm out to steady Aramis as he sagged a little when he reached the ground. Athos had walked a few steps ahead of them both, his gun drawn but held loosely at his side. D'Artagnan knew Athos was only holding the gun as a precaution but it was still a sobering sight when he knew its use would be on one of their own.

Athos nudged Porthos' leg with his foot. The Musketeer did not react. Aramis passed Athos and crouched down beside his friend.

'Porthos?'

When there was still no response, he reached out and shook the man's shoulder. Aramis paused for a second before patting the pocket on Porthos' doublet where he had slipped the gemstone.

'It's gone,' he said looking up, 'someone must have found him like this and searched his pockets.'

'Then why not take his weapons and money bag as well?' asked Athos.

Aramis shrugged his shoulders, 'perhaps they knew the stone was valuable...perhaps they were disturbed by our approach.'

Athos looked around, searching for anyone watching them.

Porthos groaned. Athos returned his attention to the man and slightly raised his gun. Aramis remained where he was, his hand on Porthos' shoulder.

Porthos groaned again and managed to push himself over onto his side. He blinked and looked around.

'Did I fall off my 'orse?' he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

'No. Don't you remember what happened?' asked d'Artagnan as he approached Porthos on the other side and helped him to turn over and sit up.

Porthos shook his head, as he looked at Athos with concern. Athos remained where he was for a few seconds before lowering the gun and crouching down in front of Porthos.

'What happened to you?' asked Porthos as he looked at Aramis with concern.

'You, happened to me,' replied Aramis.

'You hit him, and kicked him...then you fired your gun at d'Artagnan and took off on your horse...don't you remember?' asked Athos.

Porthos shook his head, 'last thing I remember is watching d'Artagnan grab you and throw you in the stream to put out the fire, and us going to get the horses.'

'After that, on the way back with the horses,' said Aramis, 'you said you thought you had been stung by a bee, I was going to look at your neck and then you punched me to the ground.'

Porthos stared at Aramis, 'I'm sorry, I don't remember that.'

Aramis reached up to Porthos' collar and pulled it away from his neck.

'What's this?' he said as he picked up a small dart with his thumb and forefinger, 'I think this explains the sting you felt, see there's a puncture wound on his neck.'

Aramis pointed at the spot, Porthos reached up and felt his neck.

'I wonder if you've been given something...you know, to make you act strange.'

Porthos and Aramis looked at d'Artagnan who realised they did not understand what he meant.

'There are frogs in South America that are poisonous. The people there use the poison on their arrow tips when they go hunting.'

'How do you know that?' asked Aramis incredulously.

Slightly taken aback d'Artagnan replied, 'I read it...I can read you know.'

'Where would you be reading that kind of information?'

'It was one in a letter that Monsieur Bonacieux had from a friend who had been travelling.'

Aramis paused for a second before replying, 'is that what you do when you visit Constance? Read Bonacieux's letters with her? And there we were thinking you were-'

Athos slapped Aramis' arm as d'Artagnan tried to hide his embarrassment.

'Am I gonna die?' asked Porthos with a shocked expression.

Aramis sobered a little before returning his attention back to d'Artagnan who did not like his sudden elevation to expert on the current subject. He had only made a suggestion but now they were all looking to him for the explanation.

'I don't think so…'

'You don't think so,' echoed Porthos.

'Well the poison the South Americans use kills their prey very quickly and you're not dead...maybe the person who did this just used the same idea as the South Americans to deliver a drug, with a blowpipe maybe, that made you get aggressive for a bit before you passed out?'

Aramis nodded, 'that would make sense…' he turned back to Porthos, 'how are you feeling?'

'Bruised from falling off the horse, but otherwise fine,' replied Porthos.

Porthos paused looking at d'Artagnan.

'What?'

Porthos reached forward and tugged at something on the younger man's sleeve.

'Looks like they had the same plan for you, but missed their target,' he said holding up a similar dart which had been embedded in d'Artagnan's borrowed doublet.

Athos rose from his spot, crouched at Porthos' feet, and began to carefully scan the surrounding area.

'D'Artagnan was probably hit when we were getting changed,' he said.

'If it had the same effect, two of us could have killed the other two and then taken each other out,' said Porthos.

Aramis glanced around, 'do you think they're still out there?'

All four of them glanced around. D'Artagnan felt very uneasy, the thought that they could be attacked without even knowing it was unnerving.

'They have the gemstone...perhaps they've gone?' suggested d'Artagnan.

'I would rather not take the chance,' said Athos from his spot a few feet away scanning the area, 'we need to find somewhere enclosed where we can regroup.'

'About that...' said Porthos.

'What?' asked d'Artagnan, turning back to Porthos who was being helped to his feet by Aramis.

'I've still got the stone.'

Aramis looked at him, his brow furrowed, 'no you haven't I checked, it's gone from your pocket.'

Porthos shook his head, 'it wasn't in my pocket, at least not after we reached the horses.'

They all watched as Porthos crossed to his horse, and after stroking his muzzle he stepped up to his saddlebag and reached in, pulling out a small money bag which he tipped into his hand. The gemstone fell out.

Aramis looked even more confused, 'but I watched you check your pocket every few seconds for it.'

Porthos managed a small smile, 'remember my upbringing, something that valuable, should not be kept somewhere obvious. What I had in my pocket was a stone I picked up off the ground. It was wrapped up, the thief probably did not have time to check, they must have seen me put it in my pocket but not watched carefully enough when I slipped it into my saddle bag.'

Aramis shook his head and smiled, 'well done.'

'But, this does now give us a problem,' said Athos, his expression serious, 'the thief will not take long to realise he does not have the gem...and he may try the same tactic to obtain it a second time.'

D'Artagnan continued to scan the area. Whoever had attacked them, was probably the same person who had tried to steal the gemstone.

'Do you think they were with the Spaniards that we killed? There were only four people there, but five horses.'

Athos nodded, 'probably. Let us hope they have returned to their camp, at least to start with, until they find out they do not have the stone. We need to get undercover. Does anyone know the area well enough?'

Athos looked at the others. D'Artagnan shook his head.

'There's an abandoned chapel about a mile east of here,' said Aramis, 'but why do we need to get undercover, why not just head straight back to Paris?'

Athos turned to Aramis and sighed, 'because, Aramis, you are injured, don't try to deny it...and d'Artagnan still needs his arm looked at...and,' Athos paused looking at Porthos, 'we don't know if there are going to be any after effects…'

Porthos looked down, 'he's right, what if I try to attack you again.'

'I'm sure you're fine now,' said Aramis with conviction.

'Will you allow us to take your weapons? Just for now, a couple of hours?' Athos asked.

D'Artagnan could tell the swordsman was uncomfortable asking.

As Porthos pulled his sword and gun from his belt Aramis shook his head.

'I don't think that's necessary,' he muttered.

Porthos looked at the marksman, 'have you seen what I did to you? And I shot at d'Artagnan. I could have killed one of you or both.'

'You were holding back,' remarked Aramis, 'and you didn't shoot d'Artagnan. Even if you can't remember it, there must have been part of you still aware enough not to really hurt us.'

'Aramis, you are holding your ribs, you've probably got bruising all over you. This is a sensible precaution,' said Porthos.

D'Artagnan could see Aramis struggling to concede the point. The marksman turned and walked up to his horse, pausing for a second before turning back. Athos had already approached him and without a word helped him up. Aramis did not make eye contact or speak with any of them for several minutes.

MMMM

Aramis led them towards the chapel. He deliberately put himself slightly ahead of the others making it clear he did not want to speak further on the subject. It was obvious Porthos was fine and was having no lasting effects from whatever had been used to drug him.

His own injuries were not too bad. He knew his ribs were bruised but none were broken, he would not have been able to ride his horse otherwise. Although he did admit, but only to himself, that he was in quite a lot of pain. But he could work through the pain and he had some pain draughts in his bag. After he had seen to d'Artagnan he might take one of them, but he would not let the others know.

As he rode he listened to the conversation behind him.

'I don't understand why I attacked Aramis though,' said Porthos, who was obviously having a hard time understanding what he had done.

'He was right next to you. Whatever was on that dart was designed to make you aggressive. If the one that was shot at me had hit its target I would have attacked Athos,' d'Artagnan said.

'Whoever did this, wanted us to kill each other,' said Athos, 'I suspect it is only one man. If there were more they probably would have just attacked us.'

'Porthos, he was just in the wrong place, it could easily have been either of us,' d'Artagnan remarked, trying to placate Porthos.

Aramis sighed, 'really, Porthos, it's fine, stop blaming yourself.'

He twisted around on the saddle, regretting the move instantly. Unable to help a small gasp of pain as his abused ribs were moved, Aramis screwed his eyes shut. He found that all he could do for a few seconds was to try to breathe and even then he could only manage short, panted breaths.

He flinched when he felt hands on his shoulders trying to straighten him up, he had not realised he was leaning forward.

'It's me,' said Athos softly, pushing him up slightly.

Aramis wished he had not moved; had not drawn attention to how much pain he was in. All he had succeeded in doing was highlighting how much Porthos had hurt him. Aramis did not want his friend to feel worse than he already did.

'How much further is the chapel? Aramis?'

Through gritted teeth, Aramis managed to respond, 'another couple of hundred yards straight ahead.'

He felt his hands being gently taken from his reins and hooked onto his saddle. As his horse started to walk forward Aramis managed to open his eyes again. Athos had taken his reins and was walking them both forwards. Porthos was on his other side looking at him with concern and d'Artagnan had taken over with leading the group and watching out for their attacker.

'Sorry,' Aramis managed to say quietly.

'We know,' said Athos.

Porthos leaned over slightly and said, 'there's no point trying to hide what I did to you, I know I hurt you. It's pretty obvious from the bruises on your face.'

Porthos managed a small grin when Aramis managed to look around at him. Aramis returned the smile and nodded.

It annoyed him that he had given away how much his injuries were affecting him, but now that they knew there was not much else he could do about it.

MMMM

Authors note: Sorry no cliffhanger today, but there will be one tomorrow. And I don't know anything about drugs, 'cos I'm a good girl, but I'm sure our baddie knows what they are doing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As the chapel came into view Athos slowed the horse and dismounted. He did not give Aramis the chance to try to dismount on his own. He guided the injured Musketeer down and kept hold of him despite the annoyed look the man gave him. Athos returned the look with an admonishing one of his own. Aramis looked away.

Porthos led his and Aramis horse forward, into the ruin with d'Artagnan taking the other horses, both reins held in one hand.

The chapel had lost its roof over the years of neglect, but its walls were still standing, although where the doors would have been now only stood a large gap. The well-trained horses were unperturbed to enter the old building. They did not want to leave the horses outside, if the man who had attacked them was not already following them they did not want to advertise their location.

The interior of the ruin was very dilapidated. The altar was still intact, but not much else had survived over the years. A few large pieces of masonry lay dotted around, Athos suspected locals may have carried off the small pieces for use in their own house building.

Athos helped Aramis to sit on one of the large blocks and after giving him an order to remain where he was by no more than a look, he began a reconnaissance of the surrounding area. He walked from window to window of the chapel and looked out. Aramis had picked a good spot, the chapel was at least a hundred yards from the tree line in all directions. They would see anyone approaching with plenty of time to deal with them. Despite the lengthening shadows caused by the lowering sun, the visibility was still good and would be for a couple of hours. There were enough windows for them to keep watch from without having to leave themselves open to the attackers drugged darts.

'Where are you going?' asked Porthos.

Athos turned to see Aramis had stood up and was about to walk towards the horses.

'I need my bag, we need to see to d'Artagnan's arm.'

D'Artagnan shook his head as he went to Aramis' horse and retrieved the medical bag.

'You really are incorrigible,' he said as he walked back, handing the bag to Porthos, 'you nearly passed out just now and yet you're still more interested in looking after everyone else.'

Aramis could not hide his embarrassment.

'I don't think 'e knows he's doing it,' said Porthos as he crouched down in front of his friend.

Aramis sighed, 'alright I will admit defeat...this time.'

Athos smiled as he watched Porthos help the marksman to take off his weapons belts and doublet. Athos began to make slow circuits around the chapel checking the tree line as he went, he glanced over occasionally at his brothers.

Porthos was fussing around Aramis like an overprotective mother, the man was clearly still feeling guilty about what he had done. Aramis had finally acquiesced into letting his friend look at his injuries. When Aramis' shirt was pushed up both Porthos and d'Artagnan struggled to hide their shock. It was no wonder the Musketeer was in pain, Porthos' kicks had left their mark. Aramis was lucky not to have broken ribs.

Athos went back to checking their surroundings, as he did so he took stock of their situation. He was currently the only one of the four of them who was fully fit. Both Aramis and d'Artagnan were injured and Porthos, who appeared fine, could not be fully trusted, mainly because he was obviously not ready to trust himself. Athos was of the same opinion as Aramis, that the drug would not have a lasting effect. He had already decided he would return his friend's weapons once the injuries were all dealt with.

If they were lucky the thief would not notice his mistake until they were on their way back to Paris. If they were unlucky the thief was already looking for them, or had already found them and was working out his plan of attack. Athos knew they could not stay where they were for long. They had limited provisions and two of them were injured, something the thief probably knew.

A fit of coughing from Aramis drew his attention back to his friends. The marksman was bent forward spluttering, his eyes shut in pain. D'Artagnan glanced across at Athos.

'The painkilling draught,' he said by way of explanation.

'Isn't it supposed to help, not make it worse?' asked Athos.

Porthos looked up and shrugged, 'it's his recipe, he should know how foul it tastes.'

Aramis had calmed down a little and although back to taking short gasping breaths seemed to have recovered.

'I'll be fine...in a...minute,' he managed to say.

Porthos looked up at d'Artagnan who reluctantly took his own swig of the draught, pulling an unappreciative face as he swallowed.

'Let's see to these bruises,' said Porthos as he searched through the bag for what he would need.

Athos went back to his slow patrol. He decided, that he would give his brothers a few minutes to recover after Porthos had finished his ministrations and then they would move on. He wanted to be well on the way back to Paris before it got dark.

MMMM

Porthos was pleased that Aramis was finally letting them help him. He had not stopped Porthos from helping him to redress after they had dealt with his bruised ribs and had even allowed him, under careful direction, to deal with the bruises on d'Artagnan's arm.

The young Musketeer seemed much more comfortable once his arm and wrist had been strapped up, the bruises had left him feeling weak along the arm. Porthos had watched as d'Artagnan had wondered over to Athos who was still maintaining his slow patrol around the perimeter of their temporary hideout. After a brief exchange of words, Athos walked over to them.

'I'd like to leave as soon as possible,' he said, 'although our young friend has insisted that I take a few minutes to rest before we do so.'

Aramis chuckled.

'You asked him to do that didn't you,' said Athos with a shake of his head.

'I may be stubborn, but you're worse,' replied Aramis.

Athos settled on the block of masonry next to the injured man and reached out for the proffered waterskin from Porthos.

'Are you going to be able to ride?' asked Athos turning to Aramis.

'No he ain't,' said Porthos before Aramis could answer, 'I think he proved that back there.'

Aramis looked a little put out, but Porthos did not care, his friend's wellbeing may not have been high on his own agenda but Porthos was not about to see Aramis come to further harm.

'He's going to ride with me…' continued Porthos.

'Apparently, I am going to ride with Porthos,' said Aramis, 'but I'm really not in as much pain as I was.'

'Only because that horrible mixture of yours is masking it,' said Porthos.

'I agree,' said Athos, 'we may need to make a quick retreat and we do not need to be worrying if you are going to stay on your horse or not.'

Aramis admitted defeat for the second time. Porthos smiled as he got to his feet.

'I'll see to the horses.'

MMMM

Porthos helped Aramis up behind him on the horse with a grin. Aramis rolled his eyes, he still thought he would be alright on his own horse, but he had been overruled by all his brothers. Athos helped d'Artagnan up although the younger man seemed to be in a lot less pain now that his arm was strapped up and he had taken some of the painkiller.

Athos had returned Porthos' weapons to him despite the Musketeers misgivings. After Athos had promised to shoot him if he became aggressive again, Porthos had slipped all his weapons back into place on his belt.

'We will press on to through the night, the road is safe enough, I do not think we can risk camping or stopping anywhere,' said Athos.

Aramis agreed with his friend on that point. The thought of being exposed when they were still bound to be a target to the attacker did not appeal to him.

As they moved off Porthos said quietly to him, 'I won't say anything if you need to lean on me, don't suffer.'

Aramis smiled at his friend's words. Porthos was still worried about him and how much pain he was in. Aramis wondered if they would let him ride alone when they reached Paris? He always hated having to be helped into the garrison. It was nothing to be ashamed of, to be injured, but he was a soldier and should be able to endure such things.

'I'm fine,' replied Aramis.

'Jump down and we'll have a sparring session then,' suggested Porthos.

Aramis slapped his arm as Porthos could not stop a chuckle.

MMMM

They remained vigilant, keeping to the most open areas of the wood as they made their way back towards the road. Porthos' earlier flight and their brief stay in the chapel had led them further away from the main road. But the wood was not densely foliated, visibility was good.

D'Artagnan had taken the lead again, Athos was behind and to his right leading Aramis' riderless horse. Porthos and Aramis were further back, watching the woods on their left carefully.

They did not speak, the danger they were in weighing heavily on each man. D'Artagnan had watched Porthos double check the gem was safe in his saddlebag, he had been confident that their enemy would not be able to see the move.

They were moving as fast as Aramis' injuries would allow, but d'Artagnan had to admit he was glad of the slower pace. Despite the aid, he had received to his bruised arm he still felt weak and was not entirely happy with his grip on the reins. He knew that firing a weapon with any accuracy would elude him for a few days.

'We're going to have to stop Porthos, he's definitely lame,' said Aramis.

D'Artagnan turned in his saddle, looking back at his brothers. Porthos was patting his horse's neck and speaking quietly to him. The lame horse had come to a natural stop. Porthos shook his head.

'Sorry,' he said as if it was his fault that the horse had become injured.

They all looked around again carefully. The wood was still, they could only hope they were far enough away from any cover that could be offered to their as yet unseen attacker. They guessed the attacker would use the same method as he had with Porthos and fire a dart at them.

'Let's do this as quickly as we can,' said Athos, a look of worry on his face.

The unscheduled stop would leave them open to attack. They hoped that the enemy attacker was not nearby, they hoped that they would be able to hear their approach through the wood.

Athos dismounted and walked a few paces away from the group scanning the woods keenly. D'Artagnan slid off his horse and walked back to Aramis who was in the process of easing himself off the back of Porthos' horse. Aramis was panting from the uncomfortable movement when he reached the ground. D'Artagnan steadied him.

Porthos took one look at Aramis before turning to walk up to Athos.

'Take a minute, before you try mounting up again,' he said as he walked away.

D'Artagnan could tell Aramis was about to object to the apparent mollycoddling but thought better of it when Porthos turned back and gave him a stare.

D'Artagnan kept hold of Aramis who had managed to compose himself relatively quickly. The marksman pushed himself away from d'Artagnan and turned to walk toward his own horse.

'I'm fine,' he said to d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan smiled as he continued to scan the area, noting that Aramis was doing the same thing, despite the look of pain in his eyes. They were soldiers, they were trained, Aramis probably did not even realise he was doing it.

D'Artagnan was a little surprised to see Aramis pause and slowly reach for his gun.

MMMM

Porthos wanted to talk to Athos out of earshot of Aramis. The marksman might have been outwardly pretending he was not in as much pain as he was but Porthos could tell his friend was suffering. The movement of the horse was affecting Aramis more than he was letting on. Without realising, Aramis had tightened his grip on Porthos' waist as they had ridden. Porthos was almost glad when his horse had gone lame.

Athos, his gun drawn, was looking off into the distance as Porthos approached.

'He needs a break from the horse,' Porthos said, deciding that he might as well get to the point.

'I know,' replied Athos without looking around, 'but we cannot stop here, it is just too dangerous.'

Porthos nodded, 'you're right,' he agreed, 'and without making it obvious which of us has the gemstone we cannot leave him and d'Artagnan behind.'

Athos glanced around, 'we cannot split up, we cannot stop. I hate to do it, but Aramis has to keep going.'

Porthos nodded, he had expected Athos to react as he had but felt he ought to speak up for his friend. Porthos knew that Aramis would not complain or admit to being in pain himself.

After another sweeping gaze of the wood, Athos turned back to Porthos and began to walk back towards the horses.

Athos stopped suddenly and reached up to his neck. The look of shock on Athos' face as he pulled the dart from his skin had Porthos staring at him in disbelief.

MMMM

Authors note: Bit predictable that one, I know. Pesky work means I must keep you in suspenders for a bit longer, the last chapter will go up around 1600 - 1700 (UK time) tomorrow. Sorry (not sorry).


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

'We cannot split up, we cannot stop. I hate to do it, but Aramis has to keep going.'

Athos had known what Porthos had wanted the moment he had walked up to him. Athos had felt the same. He could not think of a way to ease Aramis' suffering. The marksman had started off hiding the pain he was in well, but as they had travelled it had become apparent to Athos that Aramis' act was slipping. The pain was etched on his face with each rise and fall of the horse.

But they could not stop. They had no idea how far the attacker could shoot his darts from. He hoped they were far enough away from danger where they were but he could not be sure.

Athos looked around again before turning back to Porthos and began to walk back to the horses with him, he knew he would be needed to help Aramis back onto his horse behind Porthos.

A sharp sting in his neck made him wince. He reached up instinctively feeling over the spot. He denied it for a few moments. He wanted to pretend it had not happened. He did not want to find the dart when he reached up.

But he knew. He knew he would.

His fingers closed around the small dart, its feathered end brushing over his skin. Athos pulled the dart from his neck with a second wince. He looked at it. The feathers were brown. For some reason, the thought that came to his mind first was to wonder what sort of bird the feather had come from. Even as he stared at the dart, which he knew was drugged, he wanted to deny what it was.

Athos' next thought was of the event earlier in the day when he had watched, stunned, as Porthos had beaten his best friend to the ground before kicking him as he lay defenceless, arms out in submission.

Was he about to do the same thing?

He looked up at Porthos, who was staring back at him. Athos blinked a couple of times. His mind was whirling, he could not order his thoughts.

What was he supposed to be doing?

He blinked again. He had been drugged, he thought. That was not a good thing.

Porthos was still staring at him. Another thought occurred to him; both d'Artagnan and Aramis were injured, neither could come to Porthos' aid. What if he managed to overpower Porthos? When Porthos had been drugged he had seemed unnaturally strong. Under normal circumstances, he would not have been able to beat Aramis as easily as he had. Would the same thing happen to him?

Athos was struggling to work out what was going on.

Porthos' shocked expression had changed to one of anger.

Athos wondered what Porthos would do.

MMMM

As Aramis had slowly walked towards his horse, desperately trying not to show how much pain he was in he looked into the woods. Scanning the undergrowth he watched for the slightest movement. He knew he had a keen eye for detail, it was what helped him to be so accurate with a gun.

He glanced across to Porthos and Athos. He knew he was the topic of their conversation. He knew that he was not hiding his pain well enough. He also knew there was nothing that could be done.

The conversation ended with Athos turning towards Porthos and then beginning to walk back towards him. Athos needed to help him to mount up. Aramis hated feeling so helpless. He could not even mount a horse without help in his current state.

Athos paused and reached up to his neck. Aramis knew what had happened, but a slight movement to his right caught his attention. There was nothing Aramis could do for Athos at that moment but he could deal with the cause of all their problems. The attacker was lowering his weapon, a long blowpipe, as Aramis raised his gun. Aramis did not remember drawing the gun from his belt.

Aramis took a step forward and aimed. The man was stood almost behind a tree, he was well hidden. He wore dark clothes, the fading light making him hard to spot. But Aramis had seen enough. Aramis fired his gun.

The reaction from the man with the blowpipe was instant. He stumbled a few steps away from the cover of the tree, dropping his weapon as he did so. The wounded man looked across at Aramis, his eyes wide with shock. They looked at each other for a second before the man collapsed to the ground, his now unseeing eyes staring at the darkening sky.

MMMM

Athos stared at Porthos, a look of shock spreading across his face. Porthos could see the myriad of thoughts rushing through his brother's mind. When he had been shot, he had not known what was happening. But Athos knew. Porthos could tell Athos was remembering what had happened between him and Aramis a few hours before.

Porthos could not remember what he had thought when he had been hit with the dart. He only knew what had happened because his brothers had told him.

Porthos knew what he had to do. As Athos looked back down at the dart Porthos pulled back his arm. Striking his brother, was not something he liked to do. He knew that when he had hit Aramis he had not been himself, he had been under the influence of whatever the dart had been coated in. But now, he was fully capable of rational thought and his only thought was to prevent Athos from hurting any of them unintentionally.

Athos' head snapped back his eyes fluttered for a second before closing at the same time as his knees buckled. Porthos was ready, he grabbed his now unconscious brother, guiding the limp man to the floor.

MMMM

It had all happened quickly. It took d'Artagnan a few seconds to register the turn of events. Aramis had stepped forward, raising and firing his gun towards the treeline. D'Artagnan looked in the direction Aramis had been aiming. A man, of similar age to himself staggered to the ground, remaining still.

Aramis took another step forward before faltering. D'Artagnan closed the gap between them, grabbing Aramis, who jumped slightly at the contact.

'Sorry,' said d'Artagnan when Aramis tried to prevent a wince of pain.

Aramis nodded his acceptance of the apology but his gaze was firmly fixed ahead of them. D'Artagnan looked up, he was unable to hide his shock when he saw Porthos draw back his arm and punch Athos hard across the face. Porthos must still have been under the influence of the drug; he had just attacked Athos. D'Artagnan unconsciously tightened his grip around Aramis' waist, causing the marksman to gasp in pain.

D'Artagnan looked again at Aramis who had screwed his eyes shut and was taking short, panted breathes as he worked through the pain. D'Artagnan forced Aramis to kneel down, he did not have time to be gentle, he had to do something about Porthos.

'No…' Aramis managed to say, 'Athos...hit with...dart…'

Aramis managed to vaguely point in the direction of the man he had just killed. D'Artagnan saw the blowpipe and finally worked out what had happened; Porthos had reacted to Athos being shot. Aramis was talking again.

'Check...them,' he panted, 'I'm not going...anywhere.'

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis for a few seconds, when he was sure Aramis meant what he had said he scrambled up and crossed to Porthos who was knelt by Athos' still form.

'Did you shoot the bastard?' asked Porthos with barely disguised anger as d'Artagnan reached his side.

'Aramis did, I'm not that accurate,' replied d'Artagnan.

'Shame 'e didn't see 'im a few seconds earlier...I didn't know what else to do.'

D'Artagnan lay his hand on Porthos' shoulder, 'you did the right thing.'

Porthos shook his head as he looked back at their unconscious brother, 'you should 'ave seen the look on his face, d'Artagnan. I ain't seen him scared often…'

Porthos twisted around to look back towards where Aramis was knelt on the ground, still trying to catch his breath, his head bowed. Porthos furrowed his brow, d'Artagnan sighed.

'That's my fault,' he said, 'when I saw you hit Athos I was holding Aramis up. I...tightened my grip and hurt him.'

Porthos tried to hide a smirk, 'did you think I'd gone feral again?'

D'Artagnan tried to hide his slight embarrassment, Porthos laughed.

The tension fizzled away. D'Artagnan had not realised how worried and anxious they all were. The unseen threat of attack whilst they made their way through the wood had been playing on all their minds. Porthos was looking around.

'We're going to have to stay here for a bit, can you scout the perimeter?' asked Porthos before he continued, 'I know you're not one hundred per cent fit, but I think I'll be able to make a fire up quicker than you at the moment.'

D'Artagnan managed a smile and straightened up, pulling his gun from his belt as he did so.

'If you don't want Aramis overdoing things you should give him a sedate easy job fairly soon,' he suggested as he walked away nodding towards Aramis who had finally managed to compose himself and was looking in their direction.

D'Artagnan glanced back to see Porthos helping Aramis up and guiding him over to the still unconscious Athos. As he returned his attention to their surroundings d'Artagnan realised how close they had come to losing at least one of them during the mission. He wondered if their lives were really worth less than an expensive piece of jewellery? The answer was clearly yes. But he had chosen the life, as had his brothers, and he knew despite them all bemoaning their work on occasion none of them would change it.

MMMM

Aramis was trying not to hold his ribs, he knew that Porthos and d'Artagnan knew he was in pain, but he still wanted to play it down. Porthos had helped him over to Athos and settled him next to the swordsman who was already sporting a darkening bruise where Porthos had knocked him out.

Porthos was busy building up a fire as d'Artagnan slowly corralled the horses and did a final sweep of the outskirts of their impromptu camp. They would not have chosen the spot, but with Athos unconscious, they did not have much of a choice. The man with the blowpipe still lay where he had fallen several meters from their fire. Aramis watched as d'Artagnan searched through the dead man's pockets before walking back towards them carrying the blowpipe. Porthos nodded to a spot on the ground next to him. D'Artagnan gratefully took the offered wineskin as he sat down.

'What's the matter?' asked d'Artagnan who was looking at Porthos who had taken on a slightly pensive expression.

'He won't admonish you,' said Aramis who realised that Porthos was a little worried how Athos would be when he woke up.

'Do you think he will be alright?' asked d'Artagnan, 'should we restrain him?'

'I was fine when I came around,' said Porthos, 'I don't think it lasts long.'

As if on cue Athos stirred, he moaned and slowly opened his eyes. He looked at them each in turn.

'Is it over?' he asked, his voice croaky.

D'Artagnan leaned forward and used his uninjured arm to help Athos to sit up, Aramis reached over and steadied him.

After slacking his thirst Athos looked across the fire to Porthos.

'That was quick thinking my friend,' he said.

'You remember what happened?' asked Porthos, a little surprised, 'I didn't remember.'

Athos replied, 'perhaps I remember because I knew what was going to happen? But either way, thank you. All I could think about was how I was likely to hurt one of you.'

'But you feel fine now?' asked Aramis, 'could you feel the drug taking effect?'

Athos thought for a moment, 'it is a bit jumbled in my mind, but I was certainly aware of what had happened and what was going to happen. I could not think for myself what to do. If you had not…'

Aramis squeezed Athos' shoulder, 'it didn't happen, you do not need to dwell on it.'

Athos looked around them a look of concern creeping into his expression.

D'Artagnan pointed towards the now dead attacker, 'over there. Aramis spotted him. Shot him. He was just too late for you, unfortunately, but Porthos had that covered.'

Athos nodded, obviously pleased that the man had been dealt with. His gaze turned to d'Artagnan and the weapon lying next to him.

'Is that it? The cause of our problems.' he asked.

D'Artagnan handed it across to Athos. Aramis leaned in a little to look at the offending item. The thin piece of hollow wood was longer than he had expected it to be, at almost five feet, it was comparable to a musket in length.

'They must have taken the idea from the South American's,' said d'Artagnan, 'it looks like the illustrations in the letter I read.'

Athos looked at the wooden weapon for a few more seconds before getting to his feet. Aramis looked up at him wondering what he was doing. After looking at each of his brothers in turn he looked down at the blowpipe in his hands. With little ceremony, he broke it over his knee before handing half to Porthos who smiled and scrambled to his feet. The two victims of the implement broke each half again before handing a piece to d'Artagnan and Aramis.

'I suggest we rid ourselves of this completely,' said Athos as he threw his quarter onto the fire.

Aramis dropped his piece in, quickly followed by d'Artagnan. Porthos looked at the now broken weapon for a second before letting it fall into the fire with a brief glance across to Aramis over the flames.

Porthos and Athos sat back down. The four contemplated the fire for a couple of minutes before Aramis spoke again.

'Athos,' he said, his expression neutral, 'should you perhaps give up your weapons...just in case...Porthos did.'

Athos glared at Aramis who could not stifle a laugh. His mirth was short lived as the breath he had taken hurt his injured ribs causing him to clutch at them and close his eyes in pain. He was not surprised to hear both Porthos and d'Artagnan laughing.

Athos had his hand on his shoulder and after waiting for Aramis to regain his composure simply said.

'You deserved that.'

The End.

Authors note: thanks for all the lovely comments. I hope you enjoyed it.

I have another couple of pieces in the early stages of planning, I hope to make one of them a little longer than my usual stories. I'll be back. 😊


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